the train

at the end of august i took the amtrak train overnight from Berkeley to Portland.  i was to visit a friend from circa age 25, whose family i watched being born, raising up, and now married and on their own.  younger son and wife have recently moved to portland, mom (my pal) was visiting, soon to be joined by dad who was delayed by "work" that onerous bane of personal time. 

well, long story short, i had a great time - we saw mount hood, the columbia river gorge, multnomah falls, astoria and the seacoast.  also powell's city of books and the portland rose garden.  spent personal time together, sang all 85 of the Beatles' Number One Hits in the car.  met the pets.  no, seriously, it was a party!

but one of the star attractions of my trip, which shall not go overlooked, was The Train.

I enjoyed the train immensely, despite not getting as much sleep as I might have hoped. But it was a marvelous beast, and i was in its belly for seventeen glorious hours.  It creaked, it shuffled, it sped up, it slowed down, it changed tracks wrackingly, it hummed in the night, it submerged itself into pitch-black caves and re-emerged into the light.  it passed mountains and lakes, lumber mills and towns, farms, woods, overlooks, and the ocean.  it was archetypal.  everyone should take the train once in a while, just to remember their own process of birth.

on the surface the cars were modern - air-conditioning, sleek, arrow-designed - but on another level they were ancient - clanking, worm-like, crawling and shifting like sections of a centipede.  We passengers passed each other in the narrow halls, shifting side to side, bumping into one another ingraciously - inglourisously, one might even say - and we sat down together, strangers meeting and engaging in long conversations in the dining car, the parlor car, the sun car.  Then returning to our seats, engaging with the view, with our books and laptops, or with ourselves.

i have a history with the train, perhaps that accounts for why i love it so much, and long to experience it again and again.  either that, or my love for the train represents my personal inchoate rejection of the present, of instant air-travel that eschews the sight of land and waters passing by, of state lines, the names of tiny towns, whistle-stops, Chemult. 

Ever since those slow, painfully slow, early trips up into the Pennsylvania mountains on the old coal line sidings, in tiny cars papered with fringed maroon velvet, wainscoting and upright upholstered wooden seats, in the company of my mother and grandmother, proper in modestly plumed hats, scarves, gloves and pocket-books, traveling away from the grime and smoke of the city out into the light and green of 'the countryside,' i've been an amateur of the train.

how long will the love-affair last?  perhaps as long as i can hear the musical song of the 'coast starlight' and the 'capitols corridor' blow longingly through the fog rolling in from the bay over our hillside home.

Comments

[Georgia]

I like that Amtrak route. Travelled from Washington (state) to Berkeley last summer. Beautiful.

[kasturi]

hi georgia

yes, it sure is - even in winter. i've taken the train through the snow as well, and it is just magical.

thanks for your comment ~ k